Sunday Incognito, Aprilcot 5, 41 A.B.

        Dear Sun -

        Hi.  I know I haven't written lately but I thought I'd give it another shot before you got

any deeper into your busy season.  I even tried to invite you into the house  this morning

when I caught  you peeping through my window again - guess you didn't see my frantic

waving?  Oh, of course not.  You don't have eyes!  Sorry I brought it up....

        Anyway, I figure that as a small, pathetic creature utterly dependent on your

life-giving rays, I really ought to say "Hi" and "Thanks" and remind you that I care about

your welfare even if I don't always show it as often I should.  If I knew when your birthday

was, I'd at least have sent a card, but you've kept it such a damn secret.  Still a bit

ashamed to be an average star in an out of the way solar system?   Well, you shouldn't

be.  You'll always mean the world to me and everyone I know.  In fact, more than the

world.  I mean, you're the SUN, for crying out loud - come on!   Let's have a little pride!

        I tried to call but the information operator connected me with a man I didn't want to

talk to at all when I asked for your number.  Some doctor.  Geez, it's bad enough when

those guys think they're god.  How dare they confuse themselves with YOU - the real

source of all life on this silly little planet.  I'd complain to the AMA but... well, seems they

haven't wanted to hear from me ever since I suggested they ought to look into replacing

diseased hearts with tomatoes, since both healthy tomatoes and healthy hearts are red

and leak when ya cut 'em.  Or so I've heard on "ER" and those PBS cooking shows....

        I'm sorry - I see that my rambling is prompting you to slowly slip towards that old

western horizon, just like you've always done ever since you were a little tyke bored with

my endless attempts to dress myself.  I'll try to speed things up....

        I just wanted you to know that I'm ok.  That I'm all over that nasty burn you gave me

last summer.  That I'm real happy to see that guilt over all that melanoma they say you've

been causing hasn't convinced you to give up your day job yet.  Call me an old

sentimental fool if you must, but I still think skin cancer is preferable to freezing our asses

off in the cold vacuum of outer space.   Most days, anyway....  But then, I DO love you,

you know.  Although you may be a 865,400-mile wide Big Shot now, you'll always be my

little guiding candle in the sky - ok?  And no matter how big you may get in the future, I'll

STILL love ya - though I would appreciate it if you'd steer your fiery remnants around me

should you decide to sign that contract with Fox TV to go supernova next sweeps month.

        Hey, did I tell ya I might get a job soon as an at-home bag boy for the local grocery?

People would just wheel their carts to my front door and I'd bag up their merchandise in

the  comfort of my own living room.  And unlike that at-home lawn care job I had last

summer, there's almost no chance of my staining my white walls green through sloppy

wielding of a weed-whacker.

        Oh, and hey - I almost forgot!  GREAT news!  Golden hamsters here are now going

for $5.99 each!  That's virtually double what they were going for just a couple weeks ago

and a sign that there's hope for mankind yet when it comes to putting a price tag on the

truly priceless.  Why, $5.99 is actually 3¢ more than "The Best of Mozart" CD!  And 2¢

more than a 40' outdoor extension cord!  And actually the same as a sweater dryer rack,

an exterior wall mount light, and a 750 ml  bottle of White Zinfandel!!  WOOO-HOOOO!

Bet the little guys are scurrying around in celebration tonight!!!

        Ummmm - is that cloud a friend of yours?


        I think I'll be going now.  Need to get to work on that boycott of vinegar-and-oil salad

dressing I'm organizing in an attempt to force OPEC to lower its prices, you know.

Plus I need to continue my experimental attempts to distill the Essence of Aprility out of

spring showers before those damn May flowers show up and start hogging  it all to

themselves again.

        Don't be a stranger, ok?


        Geez, guys, come on - get a room!

        Averting my gaze (and not just because I forgot my sunglasses, you old peripatetic rascal, you!) -

        *d*  :)

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(©During An Obscenely Beautiful Sunset by Dan Birtcher, Professional Solar Parasite)

NOTE:  The word peripatetic was generously donated for use in today's entry
by Carole Jobes, author of "A Journal of Sorts."  Thanks, Carole!

Got a word of your own that's just taking up space in your head?
Pass it along and I'll do my best to put it to good use, too!

Just send your donations of clean, spellchecked
vowel/consonant assemblages to: